


Lover's Curse

by Gaeta



Category: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
Genre: Gay, M/M, gay like hella gay warnings will change as the story goes minor ocs, how tags even work, minor OCs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-30 14:17:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6427273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaeta/pseuds/Gaeta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where the events on the Vogon ship are slightly altered which leads to Ford and Arthur travelling the galaxy together. Naturally it's a far from the peaceful and stable life Arthur ever hoped for but with Ford as the only familiar face left he doesn't really know where else to turn. Ford on the other hand is just as alien as ever with little understanding for how earthling relationships work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_“Put me to rest, lay your head on my chest. Hold my hand when you leave, don’t wake me up just to see how you say goodbye.”_

–Lover’s Dream by Anna Ternheim which was the inspiration of this chapter.

\-----..

 

  
“Eighty-three sheep, eighty-four sheep, eighty-five sheep...” Arthur Dent had, ever since his mother had introduced the idea to him, doubted the usefulness of counting imaginary sheep as a cure for insomnia. He always lost count after reaching two-hundred and was forced to start over again and again, feeling just as sleepless the whole time.

Though this time he couldn’t even manage to get past ninety as a low thumping noise, followed by moans and an occasional giggle from the room next door kept distracting him. While on earth had he simply endured the few minutes it had usually taken before the noise died out on its own and had then the morning after posted a letter of complaint to the landlord and the matter would sort itself out.

However this situation would not be as simple because A) Arthur was not on earth anymore, B) he didn’t currently have a landlord, and C) a “good lay” in Betlegusian terms lasted at least a half an hour.

He groaned as sat up, turned on a lamp and started rummaging through Ford’s notebook, figuring that if he couldn’t get a night’s decent sleep, he could at least get some of tomorrow’s work done.  
\-----..

“Arthur, are you up?” As usual Ford didn’t bother knocking on the door or saying phrases like ‘Good morning’ or ‘rise and shine’ as you didn’t know if the first statement were true until midday and the second one was just plain pointless as humans rarely shone, if at all. Instead he walked over to the sleeping form and prodded at it with a finger.

“Uh, what-what? Oh, morning Ford.” Arthur glanced wearily up at Ford who had picked up his note book and flipped through Arthur’s corrections, nodding approvingly.

“Knew it was a good idea to bring you along,” Ford beamed at Arthur who pulled his blanket over his head with a groan. “But you got to learn how to sleep at night, anyhow, wake up, we’re leaving. I’ve talked a space truck driver into dropping us off at Barnard’s star.”

“Oh... not one of those matter transfers again, is it?”

“Try to see it this way,” Ford sat down on the bed beside Arthur. “You got to get used to it sooner or later and your body will adapt.... eventually.” Ford hesitated for a moment. “Well, probably at least.”  
\-----...

 

“Oh god... what wouldn’t I do for a nice cup of coffee right now.” Arthur muttered as he glanced up at the sky where the space truck (presumably) would appear. Around them the city life were stirring slowly, yawning and scratching itself awake.

“What, that black stuff you humans drank to wake up? Here, have some of this instead.” Ford reached for one of his bottles of Old Yanx Spirit to Arthur, who regarded it with suspicion before accepting it and taking a light sip.

“Oh Christ!” Arthur coughed and heaved heavily, “It tastes like liquid fire spiced with hydroponic acid, how can you possibly drink this?”

“The taste grows on you,” Ford took back the bottle and took a heavy chug, before offering it back at Arthur.

“You mean after it has burned away all your taste buds?” Arthur dismissed the offered bottle with as much politeness he could muster at the moment.

“In a way, yes.” Ford shrugged, “Anyhow you should have some more, the alcohol will help cushion your system for the matter transfer beam.”

Arthur regarded the two devils for a moment, before once again accepting the bottle. If having your atoms violently ripped apart and then forcefully smashed together in a filthy cargo ship was as bad as it sounded when you were deliriously drunk, then he dreaded to do it sober.  
\----..

 

As usual the transfer beam was enough to knock Arthur unconscious for several minutes, which left Ford enough time to find a light switch and have a quick scan at the surroundings. The cargo hold was full of mattresses (some which seemed to be oddly eroded in one end) square cushions and pillows, all of varying quality and patterns. A wicked idea struck Ford as he heard his companion stir and moan.

“Ugh... where are we?” Arthur clutched his head, at once regretting regaining consciousness. “And please tell me you brought some aspirin?”

“Sorry, have some of this instead.” Ford opened a small bag of what seemed to be cheese doodles, only that they were slightly bigger and green. Arthur was wise enough not ask what they actually were and helped himself to some, feeling at once better as he did so.

“How far is it to Barnard’s star?”

“Well, about forty light-years, give or take a few months, so I’d say we’d might just as well get comfortable.” He patted the mattress he was sitting on, “here, there’s room enough for two.”

Arthur let out pleased sigh as he lay down beside Ford, more than ready to sleep away the next twenty light years. Ford however had other plans.

“No Ford, I’m NOT up to it.” Arthur crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Ford sternly. “I haven’t had a wink’s sleep last night and I’d be damned if you’d keep me up.”

“Arthurrrr...” Ford purred, stroking the earth-man's shoulders. “Don’t be selfish, you can sleep after we’ve had a good tumble around first, there’s more than enough time.” Ford considered emitting some of his pheromones but then decided against it, that’d be too easy. Instead he caressed the length of the human’s arms, down to his hands, and back up again, slowly loosening up the morning gown.

“No, Ford! Are you listening, I said n-no...” Arthur felt his will start to weaken as Ford started to nibble at his neck, involuntarily letting out a shiver. “F-ford, I... no...” But the battle was already lost and Arthur let Ford roll him onto his back without any protests.

Knowing that he’d already won took Ford his time undressing the earth-man. He was almost painstakingly slow, but Ford knew after a lifetime of experience how to push a being to its limits and stay there. A small love bite there, some sweet nothings whispered there, enough to make the human beg.

“Fooord,” Arthur moaned, “Just do it, will you please?” spreading his legs eagerly before the alien.

Alright, that was enough foreplay, Ford reached into his satchel and brought out a small unmarked tube. Arthur bit his lip in anticipation and stared up at the ceiling, he gasped quietly as he felt himself being breached. Once again Ford was moving at a maddeningly slow pace and Arthur cursed quietly under his breath before wrapping his legs and arms around Ford’s back. He moaned blissfully as his lover picked up the speed.

Arthur gripped at the mattresses’ edges as his muscles started to size up, straining with the effort to keep still. “Oh Ford.... Ford!” The ape descendant cried as he was relieved of all his tensions.

To Ford however, this was just the beginning, his chest rumbled loudly as he concentrated on his own pleasure, thrusting in and out of Arthur, now forcefully enough to make the human limp for at least a day afterwards.

Arthur considered having a second orgasm, but decided he was too tired to bother, instead he glanced lovingly up at Ford, for a few seconds allowing himself to forget his lover’s infidelity. Despite the fairly strict moral views society had taught him, could he never truly blame Ford for what he did. Ford was, after all, literally from another planet in such matters, and from what Arthur had grasped had monogamy been regarded as strange and icky on Betelgeuse 5, sometimes even selfish if there were children involved. How could a child ever feel loved if it didn’t have at least three parents who cared for it? In an odd way, it made sense.

  
No, Ford couldn’t be held responsible for what his world valued as normal, but still Arthur felt a painful throb every time Ford set eyes on another being, knowing that even if he belonged fully to Ford and nobody else, Ford would never be only his.

He gritted his teeth as Ford finally started to come close to his own release, trying to keep the hurtful grunts at bay.

If only he could satisfy Ford enough, if only he could make him understand, if only...

Ford let out an ululating cry of joy, which echoed against the naked metal walls, filling the earth-man with his seed. He collapsed heavily on top of Arthur, before pulling out with a wet pop and standing up to get dressed.

“I’ll go ask someone how far we’ve traveled, you can sleep meanwhile.” Ford pulled out Arthur’s towel out of the earth-man's bag and draped it over him.

“Um... I... Ford?”

“What?”

“I...” Arthur wished for nothing more than to wrap his arms around his lover, making him stay just a little while longer, but as Ford stared at him with those radiant, unblinking blue eyes, he knew he’d never be able to ask him that. Ford would never understand. “Um... nothing. Good night Ford.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Arthur takes a short walk down memory lane and then decides to go shopping.
> 
> Ford (as usual) gets lucky.

_Like a building that's been slated for blasting, I'm the proof that nothing is lasting, counting to eleven as it collapses._ – Video –Aimee Mann

* * *

 

 Banard IV hadn’t changed much since Arthur had last set a foot on it, which had been about three years ago. Sure, the buildings looked different, the ships which flew around everywhere at the airport were newer and more advanced and several of the beings on the planet had only recently discovered interstellar travel. But all in all, it was just as Arthur remembered it, noisy and bustling, alive and dangerous. The place where all hitchhikers went to get rides to new unexplored worlds, and then brag about it to those who’d listen.

Arthur gripped the towel in his pocket, remembering how it had been when he had first arrived. He had been so certain that both he and Ford were goners, almost welcomed it after having Vogon poetry read at him. But as they had been brutally vogon-handled had Ford come up with an escape plan.

“Resistance is usele-“

“Hey, what do you think you are doing?”

“ –less, what?” The guard’s leg stopped automatically as his brain started working. “Um... shouting? It’s what I’m supposed to do.”

“You call THAT shouting?” Ford continued before the Vogon could answer, “I had an aunt that could shout better than you, and she was well over four-hundred years old!”

“I reckon myself a pretty good shouter,” replied the Vogon in a hurt voice, “listen, RESISTANCE IS USELESS!” he half-cried, half-gargled, making Arthur cringe in his grip, struggling to cover his ears. “Bet your aunt can’t do that.”

“Oh please, that was a mellow sigh compared to my aunt.” Ford made a short pause as the guard took this devastating blow in, “I can see that you got potential though.”

“I do?”

“Yes.” Ford nodded as much as the Vogon’s grip allowed. “You just need some coaching, and boy, aren’t you lucky! Me and my companion here happen to be both shouting coaches,” he nodded in Arthur’s direction who let out a questioning gargle, “and we’d hate such amazing talent as yours get wasted!”

 The Vogon raised his eyebrows high over his nose and blinked sheepishly. “Really?” he said after a while of consideration, “Would you help me become a better shouter?” A thought seemed to have struck him though, as his face crinkled with concentration. “Even though I’m going to throw you out?”

 “That’s a small price compared to helping such a promising shouter.” Ford patted the thick arm around his neck reassuringly. “But you need to put us down first, my colleague can’t help you when you’re throttling him like that.”

“Oh, okay.” The guard dropped to two prisoners carelessly to the floor. Arthur gasped and coughed weakly, possibly not entirely unlike when his prehistoric ancestors had crawled up out of the ocean. Ford helped him quickly get up on his feet before turning to the Vogon with a broad grin.

“First you need to find your inner, primal shout.”

Pretty soon (after getting the required amount of fresh oxygen into his system) Arthur got the gist of what Ford doing.

“And the shout must come deep from your belly, not your nose.”

The guard nodded wisely at the several advices which he was given as the odd trio walked down a corridor to the airlock. He tried shouting a bit with this new point of view, which was greeted with a “I knew you was a clever boy, you’re developing your shouting techniques quite amazingly.”

“The sound does makes your ears ache rather pleasantly.” Arthur added helpfully.

“Really? You think so?” The Vogon snuffled as a thick string of slime descended from his nose. He stopped in front of the airlock. “Well guys, I suppose this is it. Thanks for the help.” He reached out to grab Arthur and Ford.

“Wait,” Ford urged, “you’re not just going to throw us off carelessly now? I mean, you’ll do it properly, right?”

“Uh... well...” The Vogon stopped in mid-grab and hesitated.

“You mean they didn’t teach you how throw prisoners off the ship properly?” Ford gasped as if horrified at this possibility. “It can be quite dangerous if you don’t know how to do it.”

“Um...” The Vogon grunted thoughtfully, “no, they just gave me this gun and told me to start shouting at intruders, how do you do it properly then?”

“Well, you...” Ford searched for the right words, “It’s a bit difficult to explain really, how about you throw yourself into the airlock first and I and my colleague watch and comment on your technique? Once I know you’ll do it properly I’ll feel much calmer.”

The young Vogon had a bit of trouble as he tried to throw himself into the airlock (mostly because he couldn’t lift himself up without falling over) but after a bit of trial and error he managed to get it right, feeling very pleased with himself.

Ford, too, felt very pleased with himself, as he, in a blur of movements, pressed a red button on the wall which shut the airlock’s inner hatches tightly, before opening its outer hatches vide. A load roar filled the air, along with a faint “Reeeeesisssssstancssse issss usssselesssssssss.”

“There,” Ford turned to Arthur who had just stood beside him, watching the whole spectacle goggle-eyed. “I told you I would come up with something.” He grinned broadly and Arthur found himself wanting to cover his neck more than ever before. “Let’s go find the escape pods before we get caught again, okay?” The human nodded numbly.

“Yes. That sounds fine to me.”

\---..

“Hey, what are you looking at?” Arthur woke up from his reminiscences with a start and then looked down at the shorter man beside him, who was peering into the sky intently. “You’ve been staring at the sky for a whole minute now, and whatever you’re looking at, I don’t see it.” He arched an eyebrow, “Do you reckon it’s an SEP out there or something?”

“Oh, no... I was just lost in thoughts, that’s all.” Ford frowned at this.

“You humans got to be the only race that needs a map over your own heads, anyhow come on,” he grabbed Arthur by the arm, “I need a stiff drink and it’s almost closing time.”

\---..

_Towels, as any decent (or indecent) hitchhiker will confirm, are one of the most practical and useful things you can carry. You can use it as a scarf when you’re cold, wrap it around your head to protect it from a blazing sun, use it as a blanket, carry smaller objects in it, use it as emergency bandage, ingrain it with nutriments for when food grows scarce, as a substitute for rope for the more kinkier hitchhikers (Ford Prefect claims proudly that he was the first with that one) a parachute on low-gravity planets... and as hitchhikers seem to have a knack to end up in the oddest situations, the list keeps expanding._

_Sadly it can’t be said to shut out sounds very well, and will only muffle them at best._

Arthur pressed his towel against his ears, clenching his eyes shut as if reduced vision had anything to do with reduced audio intake. Regrettably, it didn’t. The high moans and thumps from upstairs were just as persistent and relentless as with open eyes.    

All right, so he had a reason to be grateful to the... creature upstairs, it was after all an old school mate of Ford which had invited them to stay over at its place for free one night. After a shrieking giggle fit from above Arthur wondered if it was worth the price.    

He felt awkward, laying on a sofa in the living room, listening (unwillingly) to Ford having, apparently, a very good time with his former school mate. He had even felt _more_ awkward when Ford’s friend had looked him up and down and had asked if he was up for a threesome.

Arthur had stuttered some feeble excuse about a headache. The creature accepted it with a shrug like motion with its many shoulders and had then led Ford upstairs to “catch up.”

The miserable earth-man groaned and, as several times before, picked up his Guide To The Galaxy, which automatically connected with Ford’s copy, allowing him to read through and correct the mistakes Ford had either been too lazy to notice or too lazy to do anything about. _‘It is at times like these I think Ford just brought me along to have a free secretary.’_ Arthur mused bitterly as he concentrated on the screen.

All right, it could be argued that he was deeply indebted to his friend, who had saved him from certain death as earth had been disintegrated, but still he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was being used.

Yet, he would never simply walk away from the man, for reasons which went high beyond the limits of debt and gratitude. Ford was the only familiar face he had left, a link to his earlier life when Ford had just been a slightly odd and eccentric character and tea was a common and mundane pleasure.

Arthur clung desperately to those memories, in retrospect thinking of it as “happier times”, fearing more than anything that he’d lose them as well. Hell, he hadn’t even gotten himself a new pair of clothes, despite that the gown had changed its tone of colour from soft red-brown to something flecked and unspeakable, and that was after it had gone through a washing machine several times.

The pyjamas pants were unspeakable too, with enough holes to make a female Fjortisian jealous, that being the fashion of the day, and it was only due to a miracle (and some very tough tendons from an Acturian kangaroo) that his slippers hadn’t fallen apart.

 Arthur looked down at his beloved gown thinking _‘I seem to have this tremendous trouble with my lifestyle.’_ Luckily for two civilisations at the very verge of starting a galactic blitzkrieg, he didn’t say it out loud, sparing billions of lives in a far off foreign galaxy.

If Arthur had known of the two civilisations which had at the last moment come to realise that they’d been arguing over a simple misunderstanding (the rude remark one leader had made of a high general’s mother was actually a very nice compliment, according to their culture) and that they came to accept each other’s cultural differences with long era of prosperity and peace as a consequence, he might have felt a bit cheerier. But as he didn’t have the faintest idea about the whole ordeal and its happy conclusion, he was left reflecting on his tattered clothes instead.

A bold impulse suddenly made its way through his brain, “Why don’t you go get new ones instead?” The thought was quickly silenced by the previous depressive thoughts which had occupied Arthur, but not before leaving a heritage of equally bold thoughts. “There’s a second appendage shop down the road, they ought to have something that’ll fit.”

“It’ll probably be cheap enough for you to afford it.”

“And you won’t have to worry about that evolving bacteria colony that is blooming in your left slipper.” The said colony was actually a growing problem as the slipper had begun to move on its own accord, the record being able to escape as far as five inches before capture.

Before Arthur’s depression could beat down the rebellion of optimistic thoughts, the idea had settled down quite nicely and would be damned if it’d move before it was turned into reality.

And thus Arthur went to the second appendage shop the next day and bought himself a new set of clothes. Feeling very renewed by this he later went to the local pub on his own for the first time since the destruction of earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember this chapter being one of the easier to write, it didn't take too much tweaking for Arthur and Ford to have a plausible escape. Heck, it wouldn't even surprise me if that happened in one of the in universe alternative universes... that's the best thing with canon multiverses, anything and everything can and (most likely) will happen, you just don't know about it because the reader only get a tiny glimpse through the book/movie/whatever. Kinda like in Bioshock Infinite until... well... stuff in the ending and the DLCs which kinda puts a cork to that. Or.. well.. the multiverse still exists but i don't think the in-game characters have access to them. Except possibly the Lutece twins... they've even slipped into the MLP universe.
> 
> Okay, now we seriously need a Doctor Who episode where he teams up with the Lutece twins. They are basically time lords now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Arthur reflects upon alien pop music and gets treated to a couple of drinks by a very friendly stranger.

_Brother, sister too, do what you must do, don’t trust people you meet. They might promise you that the river ain’t deep._ – New Genius (Brother) by Gorillaz 

* * *

_'What am I doing here?’_ Arthur peered down into his drink gloomily, as if it held the answer. Whatever had inspired him to walk down to the bar alone had apparently abandoned him the same moment he had stepped inside.

Feeling very out of place he’d settled down in the less crowded area of the pub, taking a light sip from his cheap and sugary drink, which he suspected to be only plain water with a half-dissolved sugar cube.

He pondered if he should try to talk with somebody, but dismissed that idea fairly quickly. The blaring music made it near impossible to have a casual conversation, unless both participants could read lips fluently. Arthur had never been able to make much sense of alien music (though it sounded quite like the music that had been popular among teenagers) but the beaver singing live on stage really took the cake.

The lyrics consisted mainly of one word, “toddler,” and had Arthur wondering briefly if his babelfish had become ill before realizing that was actually what was being sung. _‘This is quite an odd place to go to be sociable,’_ Arthur mused as the beaver was abruptly replaced by a band of gorillas in space suits. _‘Maybe I should just leave...’_

 

Before he could however, he was interrupted in his train of thoughts as a slender green alien with a gigantic head and four black eyes walked up to him and asked in a cheery tone of voice, “Hello, do you mind if I sit here?” gesturing to the chair beside Arthur.

“No, no, feel free.” Arthur was fairly surprised at the alien’s polite greeting, most aliens he had encountered while travelling were either incredibly rude and/or had used him as target practise on at least one occasion.

“Oh, how kind of you,” the alien sat down and peered at Arthur curiously, albeit without the usual creepiness which came with not blinking often enough. “May I buy you a drink? They mix fine Gwinn n’ Tunic here, I’ve heard.”

“Oh, well... I...” Arthur was slightly taken aback by the alien’s sudden offer but then shrugged mentally. “Yes, please.” It seemed rude to say no, somehow.

“Excellent, two Gwinn n’ Tunic here please.” A smartly dressed spider descended from the ceiling and served them, with the usual ‘Share and enjoy’ in an auto tuned sing-song voice, batting her eyelashes heavily at the two before going back up again.

Arthur quickly glanced down into the drink to make sure there was nothing moving in there (once you’d nearly suffocated on an Acturan (arcturan) mega-fly, you were marked for life) before he tentatively took a light sip.

“I hope my question won’t offend you, but where are you from? I can’t seem to remember ever encountering one of your species before... unless you’re a Kwingon that has removed some of your... beauty spots?”

“Oh, I’m a human, and I’m from earth.”

“Earth?” The alien’s face crinkled in what looked like surprise, although, while keeping bodily language barriers in mind, he might just as well have been constipated, as far as Arthur knew. “Never heard of the place.”

“Well, it got demolished by Vogons not too long ago...”

“Oh dear.” The alien put a horrified hand over its mouth. “Vogons you say?”

“Yes, they wanted to build a bypass over it.”

“How awful,” the alien gasped sympathetically, “a bypass? Really?” The alien paused at it seemed to think of what to say next. “What do you say about I buying us another round of drinks and you tell me the whole story? I’d love to hear it.”

“Well...” the spider waitress quickly re-descended from the ceiling, put two new Gwinn n Tunic on the table, battered its eyelashes madly at the two and then left. “It all started one Thursday morning when I woke up and found a whole team of bulldozers in my garden-“

\---..

 

Arthur had a vague feeling that something was off, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why that was. Maybe it was that the alien seemed a bit too kind and caring, or a bit too generous with the free drinks, or a bit too interested in his story... or maybe it was just the odd way the waitress battered her long eyelashes every time she set down a drink on the table. ‘She’ll pop out an eyeball if she keeps that up,’ Arthur reflected drunkenly as he emptied his sixth glass of Gwinn n Tunic which made it rather hard to articulate his words.

This, however, didn’t seem to bother the alien in the least as it frequently ordered up new drinks, alongside with a “go on,” or “tell me more.”

After a while though it seemed to have heard enough. “So I take it that you are a gravely endangered species then?”

“What?” Arthur was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his forehead off the table and focus on what was happening.

“You,” the alien said slowly, “are the last of your kind?”

“Um, yeah, Ford wassun’t accthually from Guilfourd at all, he was from...” Arthur tried hard to remember where his friend was from, but the alien had heard enough.

“I think it’s time for another drink,” once again the spider descended down from the ceiling, but this time the alien just waved at it dismissively, pulling out a small bottle of his own out of one of his many pockets and poured some of its contents into an empty glass. “With a story like yours one could really need something strengthening.” He put the glass in front of Arthur and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

Arthur, in his intoxicated state, couldn’t agree more.

The drink was nothing like anything Arthur had encountered before. The fumes which arose from it smelled like lavender mixed with mint, and the drink itself was almost nauseatingly sweet, only a thin stroke away from tickling the gag reflex.

A warm fuzzy feeling seeped into Arthur as the beverage trickled down his throat which, while it was indeed very relaxing and pleasant, made Arthur’s head connect with the table quite violently.

“Is your friend all right?” Asked the spider, glancing carefully at the unconscious biped male. A sleeping customer was most often bad news, as that meant it wouldn’t spend ridiculous sums of money on drinks. And they never tipped, no matter how much you winked at them.

“Oh, he’s fine, he has just had a little too much, that’s all.” The alien slapped a fifty altarian dollar bill on the table before it stood up and propped the sleeping human over its shoulders, “I think it’s time we head back to my ship, please excuse us and keep the change.”

“Share and enjoy,” the spider replied absentmindedly, while collecting its money and making a quick calculation in its head. ‘Holy Zarquon,’ she thought to herself, ‘that charm course is really starting to pay off.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *screams internally*
> 
> Soon comes the parts where i have no idea what to write because the old plot that old me WANTED to write was dumb and perverted and tasteless and the more recent me is wrecked with self-consciousness and is torn between the path that leads to shameless smut and the other which is just existential angst.
> 
> I just... imma just... i'll just sit here in the dark and scream like deflating frog now, m'kay? 
> 
>  
> 
> Also, great thanks to Scoutbokmal for beta-ing and apologies to Lavanda for not messaging you. I'm a shy, procrastinating piece pf turnip.

**Author's Note:**

> You know... i don't think i'll ever forgive Douglas Addams for the way he ended the series and then dying. Sure, can you really expect a happy ending in a series which begins with earth being demolished and humanity pretty much extinct? But still the ending to Mostly Harmless came like a punch in the face. This story is both a mix of my wishful thinking of 'what it...' and a huge 'fuck you' to him beyond the grave. Although... i'd like to think of it as a respectful flip off, trying my best with keeping the characters in character and mimic the humor which made the books so great.. but in the end i just want to make a fic which i would like to read, and Zarquon willing, i might not succeed but i WILL try. 
> 
> Oh! If anyone out there is reading this (like... three people? myself included) i'd like to make a shout out for anyone who might be willing to be a beta-reader. Preferably someone who i can bounce ideas with. 
> 
> Okay... if you're still there... thank you for reading :)


End file.
